


before i learned civility (i used to scream ferociously)

by ardenjames



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anxiety, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Chronic Illness, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Period-Typical Sexism, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26976832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardenjames/pseuds/ardenjames
Summary: Luke is afraid her only purpose in life will be to secure a successful marriage, but Ashton shows her the value of love, of all kinds, and the ways in which she is worth so much more than she had imagined (also known as boarding school lesbians)“There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow-creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.” – Jane Eyre
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	before i learned civility (i used to scream ferociously)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FayeHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeHunter/gifts).



> yeah I wrote a SECOND gemma doyle au! Fight me! hello I have joined a new fandom in quarantine, so this is my foray into 5SOS as well as a gift for my dearest friend Em! Em has been a constant and beautiful presence over the past few months since I’ve met her, and this story is for her, as a reminder of my love for her and the fact that there will always be softness and kindness in the world, we simply have to allow ourselves to receive it.
> 
> Title from Seven by Taylor Swift, and this entire fic was written with Folklore as a soundtrack so theres the vibes!
> 
> (also because I've decided to create my own boarding school lesbians cinematic universe, this fic takes place in around 1865, and the les mis one takes place in the 1890s I think so they all def go to the same school! Prentiss is a hotbed of lesbian activism and love!

Luke was tired. She could still her mother’s voice echoing in her head, the mantra of _sit still, be quiet, stay pretty_ playing on a loop, the reminder that if she could just focus on those things, if she could just stay presentable, she could maybe find someone willing to marry her one day.

Luke didn’t really understand why she needed to think about marriage as a twelve-year-old. Her mother had explained it one day after one of her episodes, something about how she was damaged, how her condition would prevent her from being the best wife she could possibly be, and that a man would have to settle for her. So, Luke needed to do everything she could to be a woman worth settling for.

Luke shook her head, drawing her attention back to the event at hand. The music was echoing throughout the French palace, as women in beautiful dresses and fine jewels dances in perfect harmony with men in crisp suits. It was a party her mother was hosting, some sort of soireé for the French Imperial family, but Luke didn’t understand why _she_ had to be there. She wasn’t good at conversation, and the other children found her odd and off-putting. So Luke ended up sitting on a bench at one end of the hall, tugging at her gloves and tapping her foot along to the beat. She enjoyed getting dressed up, and she enjoyed the excess and finery of these events. But they would be infinitely more enjoyable with a friend at her side. Any friend, truly.

“Luke, my dear,” her mother said in French, waltzing by with a young man on her arm. “Why are you sitting there like a potted plant? There are any number of children to speak with, and you could focus on making a positive impression on our guests for your future presentation to society.”

Luke let out a sigh, letting her shoulders slouch forward. “I’m just tired, mother, I apologize.”

“Sit up straight,” her mother tutted, “no one would enjoy talking to a hunchback of a girl.”

Luke was careful not to flinch at the acerbic tone. She was used to these critiques, and simply took them in turn. After all, it cannot have been easy for her mother to raise such an ill daughter.

“I expect you to speak to at least a few guests,” her mother continued. “I hear Admiral Irwin is here with his daughter, and she is about your age.”

Luke nodded listlessly, hoping to find some escape before meeting yet another young woman who would look at Luke and find endless faults, as everyone else seemed to.

“Yes mother,” she said softly.

When her mother finally returned to the dance, Luke let her legs carry her to the door of the ballroom, looking out at the hallway where couples were exchanging low words in the alcoves, or making their way towards the exit. Luke knew she wouldn’t be able to leave until her mother, but surely she could find a library of some sort, any place to escape rather than make conversation with people who would only know her as the sick girl.

As she walked down the candlelit hall, Luke noticed an open door. Stepping outside into the cool spring air, she noticed a garden filled with the most incredible roses, their color deepened under the moonlight. Here was a place she could stay, surrounded by the sweet smell of flowers, avoiding the world that existed inside every house like that, where women like her were seen as symbols and nothing more. Like roses, they were ornamental, and simply wilted away in the background.

Luke sat on the dewy grass, ignoring the stains that would surely end up on her satin gown, and took a deep breath. Maybe if she were stronger, she could avoid being an ornament, but Luke was never known for her confidence. She would end up like these roses, clipped for a beautiful home, good for only a moment before they turned to dust.

_Three years later_

Luke despised Prentiss on sight. The building was tall and imposing, with grey brick and windows far and few between. In the brisk September air, it was even worse, with trees losing their leaves and the grass turning an ugly brown. Luke had known that leaving Paris would be a jarring experience, but she hadn’t expected England to be quite this ugly.

“Remember,” her governess said, sitting next to her as the footman opened the carriage door. “Sit still, be quiet—”

“And stay pretty, I know,” Luke said, her anxiety getting the best of her. “I apologize for interrupting,” she tacked on at the end.

Her governess just nodded, but motioned for Luke to exit.

“You’re not coming?” Luke asked.

“I’ll have the footmen bring in your trunks. Good luck, and your mother will write to you.” With a nod, her governess faced the front of the carriage, a clear dismissal of Luke.

“Very well, thank you,” Luke said softly, ignoring the slight pain in her chest. She’d hoped her governess would come with her to the entrance, at least one sight of familiarity amidst the newness of Prentiss. But apparently, being nearly sixteen years of age made one a woman who had to face her own challenges.

Squaring her shoulders, Luke took the proffered hand of her footman and stepped out of the carriage, the brisk air biting her cheeks. The solid oak door looked even more intimidating as she walked up to it, and it opened to reveal an equally intimidating woman, dressed in a long, grey gown with her hair pinned back in a severe bun.

“Miss Hemmings?” She asked in a strong accent Luke couldn’t place.

Not trusting herself not to stutter, Luke simply nodded.

“I am Headmistress Wilson, and I’d like to formally welcome you to Prentiss Academy for Young Ladies. I’ll allow you some time to get organized in your room, but we have a welcome dinner this evening for all our new students you’ll be required to attend. Lacey, one of our maids, will show you to your room.”

“Thank you for having me,” Luke finally stuttered out as the Headmistress nodded stiffly. Without another word, she motioned to a short girl behind her, black curls falling out of her cap.

The maid, Lacey, Luke remembered, took her up a foreboding staircase to a long hallway lined with candles and gilded paintings on the walls. Her room, she soon discovered, was small and unassuming, with only a bed, table, and dresser in the way of furniture. Luke hadn’t been expecting luxury, but after looking out on the landscape of the constantly bustling and changing Paris for the past few years, the view of two apple trees and endless fields was sure to grow tiring.

The white pinafore laying on the bed Luke assumed was some sort of uniform, so she slipped out of her traveling dress with minimal struggle and into a blue day dress, pulling at the intricate buttons at the front of the pinafore. She looked down and was annoyed to note that her boots still peaked out from beneath her skirt, a reminder of how tall she’d grown over the past few years.

_No one likes a woman lording over them,_ her mother would always say, as if height was something Luke could control.

With her mother’s voice ringing in her ears, Luke set about opening her trunks, putting dresses in the armoire and books along the table. She had brought few pieces of sentimentality with her; after all, what goodness had she left behind in Paris? A mother who didn’t care for her? A society that didn’t see a future for her? Perhaps, in this dull, English school, Luke would find something better.

X

It took until dinner that evening for Luke to be startled out of her stupor. Sitting at the end of the long table filled with girls in matching white aprons, Luke felt completely out of her element. She’d never been the closest to girls her age, and here, surrounded by the chatter and laughter, she felt more alone than ever.

Her self-loathing, however, didn’t seem to stop a girl from sliding down the bench to Luke’s side with a grin on her face. Curly auburn hair was tied back in a red ribbon, and she had dimples on her cheeks as she smiled at Luke.

“Hi there,” she said with a grin, her shoulder bumping into Luke’s. Instinctively, Luke shifted down the bench, making sure to leave enough space between them. The girl frowned, but didn’t comment beyond looking at Luke with a curious expression.

“Hi,” Luke finally said.

“I’m Ashton,” the girl said, taking a roll from the basket on the table. “Ashton Irwin. What’s your name?”

“Luke,” she replied.

“Well, Luke,” Ashton continued. “You seem quite sad, but I can’t imagine what you would be sad about today! I’m so excited for school to begin, I’ve been looking forward to Prentiss for years now.”

Luke thought back to the dark hallways and grey brick. How someone could look forward to coming to such a dreary place seemed beyond her. But that would be impolite to bring up, especially to a girl who was being kind enough to talk with her.

“Yes, it seems like a lovely place,” Luke said instead, giving Ashton a small smile and turning back to her plate.

Ashton was silent for a few moments, but spoke up again. “Were you nervous about coming to Prentiss? I’ve spoken to a few other girls and they all seem lovely, so I can’t imagine there’s much to fear from them.”

“It’s not—” Luke started, unsure of why Ashton was still speaking to her. Most people didn’t stay around to listen to Luke’s one-word answers. “I’ve never left home before. It’s simply a new experience,” she finally settled on. Much better than _I’m terrified of your smile, of all the laughter in the room, of being less of a woman than you will ever be_.

“Oh, I understand that! My mother and I followed my father to London when he was promoted to Admiral, and I felt so lost in the city!”

“You’re Admiral Irwin’s daughter, aren’t you?” Luke asked, finally putting the pieces together.

Ashton smiled wider, if that was at all possible. “Now you know who I am, but I still only know that you are a quiet girl with lovely hair named Luke.”

Luke couldn’t help the blush that came to her cheeks. “Luke Hemmings. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ashton let out a laugh and clapped her hands together. “Oh, your mother throws the most _wonderful_ parties! Whenever my mother and I visited our family in Paris, we found ourselves at some manor or another enjoying the most marvelous time!” Ashton cocked her head to the side. “I must say, though, you don’t remind me of her.”

Luke’s stomach began to twist. She would never measure up compared to the Duchess Hemmings.

“No, I did not mean that negatively,” Ashton said quickly, most likely noting Luke’s face. “I only meant that you seem more reserved. I don’t think that’s always a bad thing.”

“You don’t?” Luke asked.

“The world needs all sorts of people, Luke,” Ashton said, bumping her shoulder against Luke’s. “If we were all like your mother, or like my father, I feel like that would be quite boring. But meeting different people? That’s where the excitement lies.” Ashton leaned in so her nose was nearly brushing Luke’s cheek. “I am always searching out excitement.”

Luke took a deep breath, but didn’t push Ashton away. “I’ll admit I haven’t had much excitement in my life,” she said softly.

Ashton smiled, a glint in her eye. “I have a feeling that Prentiss will be all the excitement we need.”

Luke wasn’t sure what it was about this girl, this whirlwind of dimples and questions who had broken the constant stream of anxious thoughts in her head, but something made her trust Ashton. Trust her that whatever excitement Prentiss was to bring, it would make her feel alive.

X

After that first dinner, Luke found out that she had a friend in Ashton. It seemed like Ashton was on good terms with everyone in their class, even if the other girls would only look at Luke with confusion or pity.

“If you stopped being so cold, I truly think they would all enjoy your company,” Ashton had told her one day.

“Cold?” Luke had asked.

Ashton was quiet. “You have this manner about you,” she said finally, “as if there is a wall surrounding your heart. Everyone is too scared to scale the wall, out of fear or intimidation, I don’t know. But I do know that sometimes protection isn’t the best answer.”

Luke hadn’t known what to say to that. Opening up, even to Ashton, took so much time. Ashton insisted on going for walks when it was nice out, to enjoy the fresh garden air. On their walks, twisting through the rose bushes and neatly trimmed hedges, Luke tried, she truly did, to share herself with Ashton. The mantra of her mother, to _sit still, be quiet, stay pretty_ , was hard to let go. Ashton would say something funny, and Luke would stifle a laugh, trying to maintain a neutral face.

“You know, I think your laugh is beautiful,” Ashton had said once. “It…sparkles, in a way. Like the flickering of a candle.”

Luke had blushed at that, wondering why her stomach always seemed to turn in circles around Ashton.

They settled into a routine, however, with Luke joining Ashton on her daily constitutionals, as she called them, and Ashton fitting herself into Luke’s life. She filled the expanses of loneliness Luke didn’t even know she had.

Luke still didn’t particularly enjoy Prentiss. The classes were dull, the teachers rude and impatient, and the building always felt particularly drafty; Luke had a feeling that even without her ailment, she still wouldn’t be able to get warm.

She rarely spoke up in class, much to the chagrin of both her teachers and Ashton. In French, Ashton would send Luke pointed looks when Madame Fauchelevent posed a question about grammar, but Luke stayed silent.

“I truly don’t understand you, sometimes,” Ashton said, wrapping her hand around Luke’s arm and pulling her close as they left class one day. “You were raised in France, were you not?” At Luke’s nod, she continued. “Yet you don’t speak in class? Why, I expect you’re fluent, so isn’t this a waste of your time?”

Luke sighed. “I can’t—” she tried, unable to put her thoughts into words. It was different for Ashton, a beautiful girl who would no doubt have dozens of suitors at her debut, whereas Luke would have to work twice as hard. Ashton’s cheerful smile, her soft skin, the way her honeyed curls tumbled out from the low bun at her neck; Luke was _certain_ any man would be lucky to have her.

Instead of interrupting, Ashton just continued to look at her, expecting.

“Intelligence, it can be…off-putting, in a woman,” Luke finally said, looking down at her feet as they turned the corner into the dining hall. “Better to be overlooked and bored than to be singled out for a negative attribute.”

That made Ashton stop in her tracks, pulling Luke into her side. “You don’t mean that, dearest Luke,” Ashton said with an intensity Luke hadn’t heard before.

At her nod, Ashton simply sighed and continued walking, this time slipping her arm out of Luke’s. She would never admit it, but she suddenly missed the warmth of Ashton’s body next to her. With no other choice, Luke followed Ashton into the hall, walking between tables of girls studying or drinking tea, with the maids puttering about between them. Ashton finally settled at a conversation bench near the large window overlooking a lake. Ashton slumped into one side, her pink dress contrasting beautifully against the blue velvet. Luke took her seat in the alternate chair, and Ashton immediately spun to face her.

“I don’t understand why you constantly put yourself down like this. Surely you can’t be _that_ simple-minded.”

For a moment, Luke was confused. Normally, Ashton didn’t insult her outright like this. Perhaps something had changed? “I—” She began, but apparently Ashton was not finished.

“It’s not just French, you know. After all, you know more of literature and poetry, of the arts, and of needlepoint than nearly any girl in our class. Your designs are exquisite, nearly as exquisite as your mind, and I can’t imagine how you don’t see that.” 

So many compliments, let out in a rush as if Ashton had been holding them in, and Luke was overwhelmed. Who was this girl, to burst into Luke’s life and try to counteract everything she had been told?

Luke turned away from Ashton, facing the window and watching as leaves drifted out over the lake. “The constant lesson my mother taught me, the lesson that has led me to Prentiss, and that will hopefully end in a respectable marriage one day, is to _sit still, be quiet, and stay pretty_. Being smart is not pretty, it is not still, and it certainly is not quiet. I can’t imagine a man of any societal import would want a wife who was outspoken, or—or well-versed in literature. Those…those traits are simply unattractive, don’t you see?” Luke blamed her stutter on the fire that seemed to blaze in Ashton’s eyes as she glanced over, and the way her hands clenched along the gold-painted sides of the chair.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Ashton asked, a quiet voice belying her tense posture.

Luke shrugged. “I have never been taught otherwise, so why would I believe any different?”

“But marriage? You think marriage is all your future holds?”

“That is all either of our future holds, Ashton,” Luke said with a sigh. “That is simply the way of the world.”

“But for you to resign your fate? Rather than fight against it, dare to hope?” Luke envied the confidence in Ashton’s voice.

“You don’t understand, you have no fault,” Luke snapped. “For me, a marriage is the only way I won’t continue to burden my family, a stain on the reputation of my parents.”

Ashton finally put a hand gently on Luke’s arm, something that Luke didn’t even realize how desperately she needed until she felt the steady pressure. This conversation, the emotions that she felt bubbling up, it was so much that she tried to continuously push down. The anxiety, the fear, of being left behind, of being nothing.

“Luke, you are so much more than you imagine yourself to be,” Ashton said softly, her thumb gently caressing the inside of Luke’s arm. “Any man would be lucky to have you, but that is not all of your worth. We do not exist as women simply to marry; we exist as humans in our own right.”

Without even touching the subject of her illness, Luke still felt dejected at Ashton’s words. “Are we not, though? I assume your parents were the same, hoping you would gain a number of accomplishments at Prentiss that would make your debut more successful next year. What else would you be doing?”

Ashton let out a small laugh. “I would be _living_ , as all human beings do. There is more to life than marriage, Luke, even for women like us.”

Luke didn’t know how she could possibly believe Ashton, but her unwavering hope made Luke hope that one day, she too could see the world with optimism rather than dread.

X

Their friendship continued to grow, as Ashton pressed and poked at Luke’s hardened exterior, slowly breaking down her carefully constructed walls. Luke still felt fear, fear for her future, for a life beyond Prentiss, and for the intensity of her feelings for Ashton, but somehow being around the other girl lessened their impact. She would lie in bed at night thinking about moments of Ashton’s hand on her back, or the way her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her stomach turning in knots. And yet when she sat beside Ashton at breakfast, all of those fears melted away.

One day in particular, Ashton had pocketed two biscuits from tea, grabbing Luke’s hand and pulling her out into the crisp October air.

“Is it not too cold for a walk?” Luke asked as leaves crunched under her feet.

“The autumn air is good for the lungs,” Ashton replied, taking a deep breath. “Soon it _will_ be, but until then we must eek every moment out of the garden.”

Ashton led her into the circular garden, and even if the roses were no longer in bloom, the tall trees held onto the last remaining golden leaves, and evergreen hedges kept the space intimate and safe.

“I was thinking about Ophelia today,” Ashton began, handing a biscuit to Luke, “and of the sense of powerlessness she felt, surrounded by all those men. Don’t you think we’re rather lucky? To be in this space, in this school, where we’re surrounded by women and learning with women.”

Luke paused for a moment, considering Ashton’s words. Sometimes, the other girl would just begin conversations like this, with no boundaries between the emotions in her heart. Luke was in awe, wondering how Ashton managed to be so free and _feeling_ , compared to Luke who choked at the mere thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” Luke said, taking a bite of the biscuit. The ginger spice warmed her mouth, even as her fingers felt cold. “A sanctuary, of sorts.”

“Ophelia’s whole life, and even her death, was determined by the men in the story. Laertes and Polonius, even Hamlet. She only exists to benefit their stories. I think I would like to have a word with our literature tutor about this.”

Ashton continued, talking about something relating to Ophelia and flowers, but Luke was struck on the idea of sanctuary. She had never really seen the school as a sanctuary; Prentiss was still imposing, still cold, and most of the girls were still far too terrifying to approach. But Luke figured that maybe sanctuary could exist within a person as well. Being near Ashton, listening to her talk, the feeling of her hand as it brushed Luke’s shoulder, that was sanctuary. It was moments like this, in the middle of the garden, that Luke could feel safe, feel as if no one was expecting any more of her than what she could give.

“Don’t you agree?” Ashton asked, breaking into Luke’s thoughts. Luke turned to the other girl, realizing she had led them to a stone bench near the center of the maze-like garden, and was sprawled out across one side, her arms draped over the intricately-carved back.

“Hmm?” Luke asked, taking a seat next to her, careful to leave enough space between them so not to crowd Ashton.

“I was thinking about how you speak of marriage, as an inevitability. It is as if you are only teaching yourself to exist in a man’s story.”

“The stories of men are all that we read,” Luke began, leaning against the cold stone as Ashton’s fingers brushed her neck. A shiver went down her spine, but she did not react. “And for me—it’s different for a girl like you.”

Ashton tilted her head, frown on her lips.

Luke felt her stomach flip, but she knew it was inevitable that Ashton learn the truth. And if she was indeed Luke’s sanctuary, this would be okay. Maybe Ashton could still be friends with her, even if she was ill. “You’re so full of life, of beauty. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife. But me? I’m…” Luke took a deep breath. “I’m sick. I’ve been afflicted with a fainting disorder since I was a small child. My mother used to say it was a demonic presence in me, a sign of my failures that were yet to come. Any man who marries me will have to be a gracious man indeed, for who would willingly saddle himself with a diseased woman?”

Luke could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, but she wanted to stay strong for Ashton. To show that she was not as weak as her illness would imply. Ashton made her stronger; the Luke who first came to Prentiss would have never had the courage to share this with a new friend.

But Ashton was silent. And Luke became scared. Maybe Ashton was not nearly as kind or welcoming as she had assumed. Maybe Ashton would take one look at her now, seeing her pale skin and sunken eyes as a testament not just to the weary English autumn, but a representation of her weak soul.

“You truly think you are such a burden?” Ashton finally whispered, looking at Luke with such sadness that she was overwhelmed.

Quickly, Luke brushed away the tears from her eyes. “I have been a burden since I was born. It is simply a matter of transferring that burden from my parents to my husband. That is why I must be so utterly focused on marriage. It will not be as easy for me as it will be for you.”

“Luke,” Ashton said, her voice soft but desperate. She reached out, and took Luke’s hand in hers. “I cannot bear to hear another word about this from your mouth. You are the furthest possible thing from a burden; you are bright, and kind, and have the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered. I feel a kinship with you that I have never felt with another. And whatever ailment you have, it is _not_ because of a demon or because of any evil within you. You are as pure of heart as any girl I have known.”

Luke could barely focus on Ashton’s words, her heart hammering at the feeling of Ashton’s hands around hers, the faint pressure, the warmth that enveloped her own cold fingers. In that garden, Luke felt awash with the beauty of spring, as if Ashton’s voice had the power to make the flowers bloom once more.

She turned to face Ashton head-on, noticing the worry in the other girl’s eyes.

“Do you believe me?” Ashton asked, a fierceness in her tone as she pulled Luke’s hands into her lap.

Luke’s words were caught in her throat, but she took a breath and began to speak. Ashton deserved a response, after the poetry she shared. “I do not know if I can believe you, but I want to desperately,” Luke said softly. “You are by far the person who has shown me the most kindness in this life, and I cannot imagine how I survived sixteen years without you at my side.”

That made Ashton grin, pulling Luke’s hands up to her lips and pressing a gentle kiss to them. “Then let it be known, from here on out we are kindred souls, and we shall never part. I shall support you, and you I, through illness, and through health.”

Luke blushed at the feeling of Ashton’s lips on her hands. It felt too intimate a moment to share with another, especially a girl. And yet, Luke could not imagine a man touching her with such delicacy, such tenderness.

“I promise you, Ashton Irwin, that nothing in the world shall break our friendship apart,” Luke responded, barely noticing the tightness of Ashton’s mouth at the word _friendship_.

That night, once she and Ashton returned from the garden, after Luke spent her dinner turning the conversation over and over in her head, Luke lay in her bed with no thoughts but the feeling of Ashton’s lips on her hand. The way she spoke of kinship, of emotions that Luke could never imagine having the words to explain. Something had shifted then, in that garden, between them. Luke could not be certain, but it was as if Ashton was solidified in her mind, as not just a friend but something more. Something deeper, and closer that Luke herself could not bear to speak of. It was wrong, and could not possibly be her truth. Yet, as Luke tossed and turned under the quilt, her hair tangled upon her pillow, her mind drifted to the look in Ashton’s eyes as she laughed, the feel of her hand on Luke’s neck, tickling the hair that fell out of her pins. How it might feel to hold Ashton close, to put her hands along Ashton’s waist, to dance with her.

Luke felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and quickly banished those thoughts. It was not only improper, but if Ashton ever learned of Luke’s true feelings, she could only imagine the revulsion the other girl would have for her. For Ashton to stay her friend knowing of her illness was one thing, but this? She could not possibly be close to Luke after learning of the true nature of her feelings.

X

“Assembly Day is merely _days_ away, and you haven’t prepared an outfit?”

Luke sat atop Ashton’s bed, her legs crossed under her white skirt, while Ashton looked at her with incredulity.

“What sort of day is it?” Luke asked again, wondering if she had missed something. It wasn’t her fault; sometimes, when she was in Ashton’s presence for too long, her mind would get distracted travelling to all sorts of impossible scenarios, such as lives where Ashton pressed a kiss to her cheek, or where she and Ashton could live together, without a care for husbands or social niceties, where Ashton ran her hands down—.

Luke shook her head, returning her attention to Ashton who was looking wildly through the trunk at the end of her bed. “Oh, it’s the most wonderful day! All of the families visit, and we get to see our parents, and sometimes small children come too and cause an awful ruckus! On top of that, of course, we are exempt from classes, which is _always_ a wonderful surprise.”

“Wait, families?” Luke broke in, her eyes going wide. Was she going to have to entertain her parents? The very people she was determined to avoid thinking about as much as possible? What if she had not made enough progress? What if her mother thought her a simpleton? Or worse, what if she somehow met Ashton, and disapproved? What if her mother discovered the nature of her feelings for the other girl, and she was forced to leave school, and leave the only girl who had ever—.

“Luke?” Ashton said, a hand pressing on Luke’s shoulder. “All you all right, dear? You look pale, are you having an attack? Shall I fetch the nurse?”

With a deep breath, Luke forced herself to swallow down the panic. “Apologies, I am fine. It was simply…jarring, I would say, to remember my parents will be visiting. I’m not sure if I’m exactly looking forward to seeing them.”

When she had first arrived at Prentiss, Luke couldn’t have imagined ever saying a negative word about her parents. After all, it was they who were struck with the burden of a sickly and unattractive daughter. But it was Ashton, with her bountiful compliments and endless honesty, who showed her it was well within her rights to treat her parents as fallible humans, rather than gods to be venerated.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ashton said, sitting down gently next to Luke. Their pinafores mixed on the bed, and Luke only wished Ashton sat close enough to feel the heat of her thigh. “It slipped my mind. Seeing your parents, that will be quite difficult, will it not?”

“I can only imagine,” Luke said with a small laugh. “I just…what if they think I’ve not made enough progress? What if they ask that I leave Prentiss?”

Ashton reached over, taking Luke’s hand. “Luke, we are kindred spirits, do you not remember? There is not a force on this earth that could prevent me from seeing you. Our fates, as our souls, are intertwined.” She squeezed Luke’s hand, the pressure acting as a constant reminder of her presence. “Besides, I can’t imagine it coming to that. Why, by all accounts you are a marvelous student, and the Headmistress will certainly attest to that!”

Instead of articulating a response, Luke just smiled. Ashton seemed content to sit in silence with her, her thumb rubbing gently against Luke’s own.

The moment of pause from Ashton’s bubbling language gave Luke a chance to look around her room, noticing all of the small touches of Ashton that lit up the space. The silk shawl tossed over the mirror, the small bar of heart-shaped soap on the washbasin, a pair of evening slippers standing at attention near the wardrobe. Everywhere she looked, Luke felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of calm and comfort. It was this room, surrounded by moments and memories of Ashton, that Luke felt most at home.

She wasn’t sure how she would categorize her feelings for Ashton. For certain, they were far more expansive and important than anything which could be considered friendship. Although Luke herself had never had a great number of close friends, she knew enough to know that dreams of another woman’s lips was not common among female companionship. Yet, while she was filled with anxiety about nearly everything, Luke could not imagine there to be anything evil in the way Ashton’s smile made her feel. How would something filled with such holiness and tenderness be in any way deviant?

“Oh, I forgot the reason I first caused us to dwell on Assembly Day!” Ashton said, jumping up and bringing Luke out of her thoughts. Without glancing in the mirror, Luke already knew there was a blush sitting high on her cheeks. She only hoped that Ashton was excited enough about something to disregard.

“What is it?” Luke asked, clearing her throat in an attempt to seem more normal.

Ashton was back at her trunk, tossing petticoats and a corset onto the bed. “My father sent me a new gown, particularly for this day! You cannot _imagine_ it’s beauty, Luke.”

With a flourish, Ashton revealed a dress of deep maroon, fitted with delicate lace along the neckline. The fabric rustled as Ashton stood, swishing the skirt around for Luke to see. The bottom of the dress had lace fanning out in a dramatic pattern, gathered in bows along the skirt.

“Oh Ashton,” Luke said softly, her throat dry at the sight of such a beautiful gown. “This is absolutely stunning.”

Ashton beamed, setting it down gently on the bed. “Is it not? I will surely be the talk of Assembly Day. I only wish we had more opportunities to wear such beautiful clothing. I suppose, once we begin our entrance into society, we will have dozens of parties and balls.”

Luke nodded absently, distracted by the way Ashton was slowly unbuttoning her bodice.

“Will you help me? I want to make sure everything is well fitted before I show it to Father,” she said, pulling off the outer layers of her pinafore and dress. She stood in the center of the room, in naught but her shift peaking out of her corset, and the soft white of her petticoats.

Rather than entertain any further thoughts, Luke stood and brought the crisp, red fabric towards the other girl. She arranged it so Ashton could step into the gown, pulling it up and over her shoulders.

“I told Father that we don’t have servants here, and a back-fastening dress is hardly the most practical, but he insisted it is all the fashion in Paris,” Ashton said, a slight shake to her voice.

Luke nodded, walking around to Ashton’s back where a string of concealed hooks allowed her to fasten the gown. Although Luke had had assistance in dressing and undressing in the past, and Ashton was surely used to a maid of some sort, there was a quiet intimacy in the moment. Luke could imagine her hands drifting along Ashton’s hips, dancing gently with her in the candlelight. As she reached for the first hook, nearest her waist, Ashton let in a sharp breath.

“Is it too tight?” Luke asked quietly, afraid of breaking whatever moment existed.

“No, you can continue,” Ashton said, clasping her hands at her front.

As Luke continued her way up Ashton’s back, neither girl spoke. She pulled tighter, and as her hands reached the hooks nearest Ashton’s neck her finger slipped and brushed against Ashton’s bare skin. A shock of energy made its way from Luke’s finger to her heart, and she felt her breath increase as Ashton brought a hand to her chest.

“I apologize,” Luke said, afraid she was being too obvious. That touch of skin, to feel the warmth of Ashton’s blood and soul near her, it was a more powerful emotion than Luke had ever felt.

“No, it’s—” Ashton began, breaking off. “Are you finished?”

Luke cleared her throat and fastened the last hook, making sure to avoid touching Ashton more than she needed to. “Now I am,” Luke said, taking a step back. To be out of Ashton’s orbit, to no longer hear her breath in her ear, Luke felt as if there were a cavern between them.

Ashton made her way to the mirror, gazing at her reflection as the deep red caught the candlelight beautifully.

“Oh, this is absolutely _divine_ , don’t you think, Luke?” She asked, twirling in a circle before turning to face Luke.

While Ashton was always the most beautiful girl Luke had ever seen, she was absolutely transformed in the dress. The red brought out the lovely sparkles of gold in her eyes, and her hair curled softly around her face. The dress made her look regal and statuesque, every word Luke would use to describe the queen herself.

“You are a vision,” Luke said, trying not to let the enormity of her feelings shine through. “I am…in awe of your beauty. I cannot imagine an angel of the Lord who would match you for sheer loveliness.”

That gave Ashton cause to blush, her cheeks turning pink to match the dress. When Luke pointed this out, Ashton’s blush only deepen, causing both of them to burst into giggles.

“Well, I am sure everyone will be impressed, although I don’t think I can count on them for such poetic compliments,” Ashton said, winking at Luke.

“If you look even half as beautiful at your debut, you will surely have countless suitors,” Luke said, already feeling the bubble of jealousy at whichever faceless man would eventually sweep Ashton out of her life.

Yet that comment, although Luke had meant it as a joke, did not cause Ashton to giggle as she had earlier. Instead, her lips tightened, and she wringed her hands in the fabric.

“Will you help me out?” She eventually said, softly. “I must say, it is a fairly heavy gown.”

Luke nodded, ignoring the slight trembling in her hands as she let the hooks loose once more. Ashton stepped out of the gown, folding it gently before placing it in the trunk. Rather than put her school-dress back on, though, Ashton simply sat down on the bed, lying on her back with her feet hanging off the edge.

“Come, Luke,” she said, and Luke ignored her state of undress to take her place next to Ashton.

When she was situated, looking up at the ceiling above, Ashton reached out and took Luke’s hand once more.

“Know that, whatever happens on Assembly Day with your family, I will be there for you. Indeed, if your parents are proving particularly vexing, you are more than welcome to spend the day with my Father and I!”

“I only hope I do not have to disturb you so,” Luke said, her mind leaving the beauty of Ashton in the dress to return to an anxious state. “I know how excited you are to see your father. I hope the day will be good enough.”

X

The morning of Assembly Day, Luke could not possibly keep any of her breakfast down. She pushed the porridge around with her spoon, stomach in knots as Ashton implored her to even eat a small amount.

“I do not want you to fall ill, or something equally terrible, when I am not there to protect you,” Ashton eventually whined, causing Luke to swallow her nausea and eat a few bites. The thought of Ashton giving up her time with her father just to take care of Luke, the idea of Ashton seeing Luke as something worth protecting, it was enough to make her heart swell. Her fear of her parents, and of speaking to them, was lessened by the love she felt for Ashton.

And Luke could no longer deny that it was anything but the purest form of romantic love. What she felt for Ashton, even as terrified as she was of telling her in any way, was beautiful and worth holding onto. It was a feeling that made Luke feel stronger, and safer, than if she was trying to avoid it.

After breakfast, Luke and Ashton returned to their rooms to get dressed, and Luke pulled out the soft blue gown she had chosen for the occasion. It had always been one of her mother’s favorites, but she knew that in it she would not hold a candle to Ashton’s vibrancy and life. Next to Ashton, Luke would look like a pale, dying woman; like Ophelia on her deathbed.

Luke took a deep breath, fastening a broach to her collar, and making her way down to the entry hall. Before she could even look for Ashton, though, she heard her mother’s voice echoing.

“Oh, Luke you look wonderful!” Her mother was saying, when Luke finally laid eyes on her. “Doesn’t she look so grown-up, dear?” Luke’s mother turned to her father, who gave a gruff sound of agreement, looking at Luke with his piercing blue eyes.

Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot, Luke immediately sank into a deep curtsey, earning her a smile from her mother and a nod of approval from her father. Maybe this would not be as bad as she had imagined.

However, it seemed Luke had spoken too soon. They had not even sat in the parlor with tea between them before Luke’s mother began speaking of the dreaded topic.

Her mother took a sip of tea, delicate and reserved as always, and began to speak with a casual tone. “I want you to know, dear, that I’ve been speaking with Lord Tremberly. I assume you—”

“Tremberly?” Luke interrupted. That couldn’t possibly be true. Lord Tremberly was…well he was ancient. Would her mother truly doom her to marriage to a man nearly twice her age?

“Luke, I will remind you not to interrupt me,” her mother responded, voice cold as iron. “As I was _saying,_ Lord Tremberly will be joining us for tea over the holiday, and you will do well to be as charming and accommodating as you can.”

Luke felt her stomach drop. She had known that her time at Prentiss would be brief, potentially cut short by her parents’ need to save their personal reputation, but she hadn’t imagined it would come within six months.

“Mother, I implore you to reconsider,” Luke began, ignoring the way her voice began to shake. Her heart had begun to beat faster as well, imagining the life she would live as the elderly Lord’s wife. Ashton’s words came back to her, the idea that a woman like her was worth more than a marriage; well, apparently according to this match, Luke was worth less than she had even imagined.

“Luke, this is a serious matter. You know that your illness may get worse with time, and it is imperative that we find a match as soon as we are able, so that you have some assurance for your future.” Her mother continued, but her voice fell into the background as Luke’s breath increased in speed. A minor member of the nobility, an old man who had nothing better to do than heckle from the back benches of Parliament. A man old enough to be considered not just a gentleman, but a distinguished one. She had to fight down the bile that threatened to rise from her stomach. Her hands began to shake. Her mother was shouting.

“Luke!” Her mother was shouting, snapping Luke back into reality. Rather than waiting for a response, her mother continued. “What have I told you about _sitting still_ ,” she said in a loud whisper, her hand reaching out to grab Luke’s shaking arm.

Luke inhaled sharply, her mother’s grip tight. Her hear continued to beat fast, and she felt sweat bead on her brow, though whether that was from the thought of marrying Tremberly or from her mother, Luke did not know.

Just as she attempted to respond to her mother, however, Luke felt the world tilt underneath her, her vision going dark as she fell off the chaise.

X

Luke awoke with a pounding headache and the feeling of a warm compress on her forehead. With a groan, she opened her eyes, and was immediately faced with Ashton’s face looming over hers, her hair falling down in ringlets along her cheeks.

“What on—” Luke began, her voice thick.

“Careful, you’re still recovering,” Ashton said in a low voice. “They brought you to the infirmary after your….episode, but you’ve been asleep for a few hours now. I’ll call the nurse, tell her you’ve awoken.”

Ashton moved to stand, but Luke reached her arm out, grabbing Ashton’s gloved hand has she let out a groggy “wait.”

Ashton sat back down, and Luke finally took notice of her surroundings. The stark walls of the infirmary, the starched feeling of the sheets, Ashton’s hand in hers as it rested on the bed beside her.

“I’m confused…” Luke began. “My parents?”

That caused Ashton’s face to cloud over. “They apparently had to depart most quickly after your spell.”

“Oh,” Luke said softly. She’d known her parents were not the most caring, and in the past it was her governess if anyone who would support her after an episode, but she had hoped that maybe distance had given them a heart. But alas, it seemed that being a stain on their reputation was more important, particularly given that she had fainted in such a public place. As she felt tears prick her eyes, Ashton squeezed her hand.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ashton asked softly.

Luke shook her head, unable to articulate the shame she felt. Here she was, alone in the infirmary at Prentiss, with her mother unable to see her as even worth protecting. Perhaps they had sent her to Prentiss less to make sure she was refined for marriage, and more so she would no longer be underfoot. Luke had never felt like more of a burden in her life.

She pulled her hand out of Ashton’s, placing it on her lap. “I think I will rest for a bit, but I will speak to you later?”

That caused Ashton to blink rapidly, but she stood. “I—of course, I apologize for intruding. I will let the nurse know you’ve awoken.” Her voice was clipped, and as she walked away, Luke noticed that she was still in the maroon gown, looking as elegant as a ruby in the stark room.

Once Ashton had left, Luke was reminded of just how lonely she truly was. This was proof yet again that she deserved nothing like the goodness and sweetness Ashton constantly seemed to give. If her own parents, the people who brought her into this world, saw her as nothing more than something to be given away at the earliest moment, who was she to remind Ashton of that day in and day out?

Luke resolved that she would not sully Ashton’s reputation any longer. Ashton deserved to have beautiful friends, girls who would have laughs as charming as her own, and who would shower her with compliments not sullied by impure thoughts. Even if Luke was not filled with a demonic presence because of her illness, surely she was tempting something terrible by thinking of Ashton in such a way. It was _unnatural_ , not to mention the fact that she would clearly have a reputation which would only cause Ashton pain.

Luke imagined what was sure to be her future. Lady Luke Tremberly, in some dull country house in some dull northern county. Entertaining only elderly ladies and Tremberly’s dull friends. What would Ashton want from that? Ashton deserved to have parties, and nights at the opera, and dinners, where everyone would see her beauty and appreciate her charms. She deserved far more than an ill girl locked away in some country estate.

Ashton often compared them to Ophelia, but in that moment Luke felt herself more Rochester’s clandestine wife, locked away in a tower away from Jane’s prying gaze, doomed to die in a fiery blaze. She was someone to be ashamed of, just like Bertha.

These were the thoughts plaguing Luke as the nurse eventually bustled around her, tutting about lack of water and how Luke needed to take better care of her health. Rather than responding, Luke simply nodded, trying to imagine her life at Prentiss without Ashton by her side.

For she had decided, and would not be deterred, that she would have to see Ashton much less, if at all. She could not afford Ashton to get attached, to be seen as associating with Luke Hemmings more than she already did. A small part of Luke hoped that potentially she could salvage her own heart in all this, as if Luke would not be doomed to eternal heartbreak at the thought of never seeing Ashton again. But it would be for the best. This way, Luke could resign herself to her future, and prepare for the drudgery of her life ahead.

When the nurse finally released her from the infirmary, Luke immediately made her way to her room, avoiding the dining hall as best she could. Once back in her sanctuary, Luke began to undue the buttons of her dress, the pale blue a reminder of the sky over the proverbial Thornfield Hall. Rather than dressing for dinner, Luke simply washed her face and got into bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. Perhaps in her dreams, she could live in a world where her parents did not haunt her life, and where she could be more than society seemed to want for her.

X

Luke managed to avoid Ashton for three days before the other girl cornered Luke outside of music. Luke had been going through the motions of classes, living as much as she could in daydreams she had created in her head where she was a strong and powerful princess, able to live without worry and love Ashton in peace, rather than be confronted with the cold walls and drafty hallways of Prentiss.

“Are you all right?” Ashton said when she had finally made her way to Luke’s side. “I came by the infirmary the evening of Assembly Day, but the nurse had said you’d left, and then the maid Lacey mentioned you had taken your leave for the night.”

“I’m fine,” Luke said, trying to keep her voice steady. Ignoring Ashton was so much better in theory, where she wasn’t faced with the girl’s deep gaze and worried lips.

“Very well,” Ashton said, clearly not believing Luke’s lie. “It’s a shame your day was ruined so.”

That made Luke let out a laugh. “It’s not as if the day was going well until that point.”

“How so?”

Instead of responding, Luke took a turn and made her way towards the garden door. The bustle of the hallway, the reminder of other students around them, was making Luke feel more nauseous as she thought of the society they were all doomed to answer.

“Wait, do you not think it’s too cold?” Ashton called, and Luke heard the rustle of her skirts following behind.

Luke pushed open the door, the brisk air biting at her cheeks. One of the most terrible things about England, Luke surmised, was how cold it could be without even the covering of snow. Instead, she was faced with a dead garden and the cold, hard dirt beneath her feet.

“Will you please explain?” Ashton said as Luke lead them into the garden proper. “You do not seem like yourself.”

“My parents have found a suitor,” Luke said, feeling the tears prick the corners of her eyes. “An awful, horrible old man, who I will be forced to meet over the Christmas holiday.”

“Oh, Luke,” Ashton murmured, pulling Luke into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around Luke’s back, and Luke found her own arms reaching around Ashton’s shoulders, as she lowered her face into the crook of Ashton’s neck, breathing in the smell of her soap. She realized that Ashton was saying something, murmuring into her shoulder, but Luke could not make out the individual words. She was simply surrounded by Ashton in all ways, feeling the warmth of her body, the way her fingers dug into Luke’s back before rubbing gently, she sound of her voice in Luke’s chest, as if her words were penetrating directly to Luke’s heart.

Eventually Luke let Ashton go, attempting to step back, but Ashton did not go far. She simply let her hands drop to Luke’s waist, pulling her head back to meet Luke’s eyes.

“May we go inside?” Ashton said softly. “I feel that the cold air will not be the best comfort to you in this time of strife.”

Not trusting her tears not to continue to fall, Luke simply nodded, and Ashton let go of her waist. Instead of immediately walking back in, though, she took Luke’s hand in her own, pulling it close to her own chest as if it were something precious.

When they made it back to Ashton’s room, Luke once again felt the sense of sanctuary. Even as it was not yet dark, Ashton lit the candles, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow as she took a seat on her bed, patting the space next to her for Luke to sit.

As she did, Ashton turned to her side, and began unpinning Luke’s curls from the back of her head, and setting the pins on a small table. They sat in silence, and Luke felt an overwhelming sense of love as Ashton simply took her time, letting Luke’s hair fall down her back and brushing through it gently with her fingers until it all fell, a weight off of Luke’s head.

“Have your parents told you about any plans for the courtship?” Ashton asked quietly, picking up a brush and gently running it through Luke’s hair, her hands soft and warm.

“No,” Luke said. “They only mentioned that we would meet over Christmas. I cannot imagine it would be too long, though. They seem to be particularly motivated in this regard. Of course, I understand; better to get a burdensome girl married to the first man who offers.”

Ashton’s hands stilled, and she put the brush down on the bed. “Luke, you cannot tell me you seriously mean this.”

“Well of course I do,” Luke said, looking down at her lap. “I have known this was going to happen; and I assumed it would be with someone as uninviting as Lord Tremberly, but I just did not imagine it so soon.”

Ashton put her hand on Luke’s arm, gently maneuvering Luke so she was facing Ashton. In her eyes, Luke saw the same pain and sadness she often felt in her own heart. But on Ashton it looked wrong. This was a girl who deserved to smile and laugh, not to be saddened by Luke’s tragic tale.

“Luke, my darling, my kindred spirit,” Ashton said with a gasp. “I _cannot_ allow this talk to continue. You are…you are _so_ worthy of love, and kindness, and you are _anything_ but a burden. You are the most cherished person in my life, and I cannot bear to hear you say such terrible things.”

Luke felt her tears brimming once more, as the kindness of Ashton’s words made their way to rest upon her heart. “You are simply saying that—”

“Why,” Ashton interrupted, “why would I lie? Have you ever known me to be anything but true in my feelings?”

“But I am broken,” Luke said, choking down a sob. “You cannot understand, but even if my affliction is not caused by a devilish presence, it still makes me weak. I cannot bear to think that you saw me in that state.”

“Do you know what I saw, that day?” Ashton said in a whisper, leaning so close to Luke she saw the flickering of the candle reflected in her eyes. “I saw the most brave girl I have ever met, who was faced with the most terrible news. I saw a girl who has been nothing but sweet and kind to the world around her, but has been given in return trials and tribulations which she has not let turn her into an ungrateful and waspish woman, but instead one filled with grace and beauty. How could I see you as weak?”

There were tears rolling down Luke’s cheeks, but Ashton’s hands wrapped around her own, squeezing them tight. She wanted so _desperately_ to believe Ashton, to imagine that for just a moment this portrait she was painting was who Luke truly was. But the guilt she felt, the overwhelming memory of the treatment by her mother, and governess, when she was growing up; it was almost impossible to imagine.

“Do you truly believe this?” Luke asked.

This time, it was Ashton’s turn to look hesitant.

“Of course, I apologize for pushing,” Luke said quickly, trying to take her hands back, but Ashton held strong.

“No, I simply am preparing myself for what I assume will be a rather emotional statement,” Ashton said, biting at her lip. “I did not want to bring this up, as I feel it might cause you more strife rather than comfort, but at this moment it seems like the right thing you need to hear.” She paused, taking one hand and rubbing it up Luke’s arm gently, her hand soft against Luke’s sleeve.

“Luke, I think the world of you. I think you the bravest woman I have ever met, and I know these feelings to be deep and true. The reason I know this is because they run deeper than for any friend, than for any woman I have ever met. For you, I feel the way a man may feel about a woman, as if I wish to protect you and give you anything and everything in the world. My love for you, Luke, is romantic in nature, and that is how I am sure that I will never see you in anything but the most beautiful light. For you are more than my kindred spirit, you are my true love, in the deepest sense of the word.”

Luke felt as if she were in shock. Only in her wildest dreams had she imagined Ashton may return her feelings. It had always been a tacit acknowledgement that Ashton would marry a man, would continue her life and leave Luke behind. But to know that Ashton felt as deeply in love as Luke? Luke felt a blessing from somewhere far beyond the confines of the earth.

“I feel as if my words will pale in comparison to yours,” Luke began, causing Ashton’s eyes to go wide, “but you must know that I feel the same. Were I a poet, or were I even a writer as powerful as Austen, I would tell you how ardently I admire and love you, in the most real sense of the word.”

Ashton exhaled brightly, tears at the corners of her eyes but with a smile upon her lips. A smile that Luke had caused, a smile that was representative of their feelings for each other.

“I pledge that my love for you is everlasting and true,” Ashton said with a laugh, her energy once again returning to its buoyancy and beauty. “I must ask, though, may I kiss your hand? This time as a suitor does his betrothed?”

Luke nodded, her heart beating fast as Ashton lifted their joined hands and moved her head closer. But at the last moment, with a burst of bravery, Luke moved forward, catching Ashton’s lips with her own, causing Ashton to inhale sharply and let go of Luke’s hands, deepening the kiss. Ashton’s hand came up to Luke’s face, caressing her cheek gently as Luke’s lips tilted into a smile.

The kiss broke, and Ashton looked at Luke as if she were something exquisite. “I love you,” she said simply.

And for a moment, the briefest moment, when the world outside Ashton’s room did not exist, Luke felt truly complete. She felt as if she had found her sanctuary, free from anxiety, and fear, and the burdens that the world put upon women. With Ashton’s hand in her own, the feeling of her lips lingering, and the look of joy in her eyes, Luke felt wondrously and ethereally whole.

X


End file.
